Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

by John Sherburne Sleeper

The mate of the Gustavus, with a number of men, was employed in carrying off from the shore a cable and anchor, the small bower having parted at the beginning of the gale. The mate represented the situation of the brig as somewhat critical, and urged me to render assistance. Anxious to see Strictland, I acceded to his request. It was not long before we were under the bows of the brig. Men were engaged in carrying out the anchor ahead to haul her away from a cluster of vessels which were making sad havoc with her quarter rails, fashion pieces, and gingerbread work on the stern.

I entered the forecastle, shook hands with Strictland, whose health had greatly improved, with prospect of a speedy recovery, and bade him be of good cheer, that he would be well enough on the morrow. I threw on a chest my jacket and vest, containing what little money still remained on hand, and my "protection," and thus airily equipped, reckless of the clouds of mist and rain which at times enveloped the whole harbor, went on deck and turned to with a will, notwithstanding the scurvy treatment I had received from the captain the day before. When I reached the deck, some of the men were engaged in heaving in the new cable; others were just then called aft by the captain to assist in bearing off a sloop on one quarter and a schooner on the other, and in disengaging the rigging which had caught in the spars. The sloop had the appearance of a wreck. The laniards of the shrouds had been cut away on both sides, and the tall and tapering mast was quivering and bending like a whipstock, from the action of the wind and the waves. One of the cables, it was supposed, had parted; the sails, not having been properly furled, were fluttering and struggling, not altogether in vain, to get loose; and the deck on both sides was filled with shingle ballast, which had been brought from the shore early that morning, in the fear that the sloop might be driven out to sea, and had not been thrown into the hold.

The captain, mate, and crew of the sloop, finding their vessel in such a helpless condition, and entertaining wholesome fears for their own safety, ABANDONED THE SLOOP TO HER FATE, and embarked, with all their baggage, in the last boat that had brought off ballast. But with the last boat there came from the shore a young man, who, as supercargo, had charge of the vessel and cargo. Aware to some extent of the perilous condition of the sloop, he had been actively engaged during the morning in efforts to prepare his vessel to encounter the disasters incident to a hurricane. As he stepped on the deck of the sloop, and before the ballast had all been discharged from the boat, the officers and crew were eager for their departure. The captain urged the supercargo to accompany him on shore, and, when he refused, pointed out the desperate condition of the sloop, assuring him that in a few minutes that vessel, held by a single anchor, would break adrift and be wrecked on the rocks, when probably no individual could be saved.

The name of the supercargo was Bohun, a native of the "Emerald Isle." He peremptorily refused to quit the vessel, saying, as he stamped his foot on the deck, "Here I stand, determined to sink or swim with the sloop."

"Shove off!" exclaimed the captain; "it is useless to parley with a fool!"

At this moment the crew of the Gustavus were summoned aft to disengage the brig from the sloop, and the captain was issuing orders in his most effective style. "Bear off! Why don't you bear off! Cut away the laniards of those shrouds, and clear the main chainwales! Bring an axe here, and cut away that fore-stay which is foul of the main yard!"

Calling now to Bohun, who stood in the forward part of the sloop with a most rueful visage, the captain said, "Why don't you pay out cable, you lubber, and drop astern, clear of the brig?"

Bohun stood near the windlass, and his appearance struck me as being singularly interesting. He was dressed like a gentleman; wore a green frock coat and a white fur hat; but his garments were saturated with rain and the spray. He seemed resolute, nevertheless, and anxious to do something, but he knew not what to do. When roughly accosted by the captain of the brig, he replied, "If you'll send two or three men to help me, I will soon get the sloop clear of your vessel. My men have all deserted, and I can do nothing without assistance."

The captain of the Gustavus shook his head and his fist at the young Irishman, and discharged a double-headed oath at him, within point-blank shot. Nevertheless, Bohun continued, "If you will let me have one man, only ONE man, I may be able to save the sloop."

"One man!" replied the Swedish captain, screaming with passion, "how do you expect me to spare even one man, when my own vessel may strike adrift at any moment? Pay out cable, and be hanged to you! Pay out cable, and drop astern!" And he aimed another ferocious oath at the unfortunate supercargo.